The Strongest Woman He Knew
by BeatingHeartDark
Summary: Sequel to "Fascinating". Tyrion and Sansa's forced marriage and reception would never have been free of strife as long as Joffrey was there. She was almost happy.


Throughout her young life, Sansa had given a lot of thought to what her wedding would be like. She imagined a beautiful scene, light streaming in to turn her hair to fire. Her dress, her jewelery, all of her friends and family surrounding her, her mother crying tears of joy. Her father would walk her down the aisle to stand her next to a tall gentleman groom. For years, her head designed all kinds of weddings, all of them perfect. Never in a million years could she have imagined a wedding like this one. Set in the throne room of King's Landing, she had once been beaten in the very spot the ceremony would take place. Beaten at the command of Joffrey. Even now she could feel the sting. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on the man that saved her that day. He came storming into the room, shouting at Joffrey. He was small but so strong. He used words to punish, not sheer force that day. He had offered Sansa his hand and escorted her out of the room. She still hated him then. She hated everyone. Now he was there at the far side of the room. They were about to be joined in marriage. It was half serious because the Lannisters would get Winterfell eventually, but the city didn't see it like that. They thought it was hilarious. Well they could laugh all they wanted because they didn't see Tyrion like she did. He was her savior, in a way, the only person in the city to care about her enough to do something. He didn't want to marry her and she didn't want him, but he was a good, kind man. He promised never to hurt her. And right now, that was all she could hope for.

Suddenly, like a snake, Joffrey slithered up to her side. His stupid face smirking as he took her arm in his. "What are you doing?" She wanted to yank her arm away and push him to the ground to stomp on his smug face. Thinking about his head under her shoe made her feel slightly better. He explained that with her father dead, she needed someone to give her away. She blocked him out then, just looked straight ahead. She was thinking that her father could take his puny head off with a single pass of his sword. She imagined Joffrey's head rolling on the floor. She would like so much to kick it.

They were walking down the aisle now, she looking ahead, trying to keep her emotions drowned. Ahead was her husband-to-be. He didn't look as relieved as he said he was, but then again, she looked utterly tortured, she was sure. They came to a stop, finally. Joffrey turned her to stand with Tyrion. Then, before stepping back to the side, he took the step stool that had been placed there for Tyrion. Child, she thought. Stupid child. She wanted to take Tyrion's hand in a gesture of solidarity but she couldn't reach. She couldn't see his face but she knew he had to be fuming. The ceremony started then. She was numb. The edges of her vision began to blur. When they were told to turn and face each other, Sansa turned and slowly knelt onto both knees. Laughter erupted in the throne room but she didn't care. She took Tyrion's hands in her own. She looked across; he was looking right at her. His mismatched eyes held her blue ones throughout the ceremony. When he moved to drape the wedding cloak around her, she caught a glimpse of a very bored Joffrey. He had hoped to cause trouble, make her subjects laugh at the very least, but all he managed to do was make himself look petty. Tyrion took her hand and helped her up, keeping their hands together as they stood. They both exhaled as the ceremony came to a close. Tyrion smiled up at her and whispered, "I believe you deserve a feast, my lady."

The wedding reception was a much livelier event than the ceremony, with dancers, jugglers, enough food for the whole city and enough wine to float a ship. Tyrion felt no need any more to get drunk, now that his wife didn't hate him. She wasn't exactly enjoying herself but every now and then he would watch her bright eyes flit from here to there, watching in awe all of the pomp and grandeur. She began giggling at one point and when he glanced at her, she caught his eyes and leaned down to whisper in his ear, "Joffrey drank his first few cups of wine too fast and now he just spit up into his own cup and he's trying not to let anyone notice." Tyrion chuckled, "Oh that's priceless! Let's have a bit more fun with that." He stood on his chair, tapping a knife to his goblet.

"Here! Everyone! I'd like to propose a toast!" They both watched as Joffrey scanned the room for someone to bring him another cup but there was no one close enough to hear him. "My new wife and I would like to thank our dearest Nephew, King Joffrey, for the glamorous ceremony and this beautiful reception. We are immensely enjoying ourselves, are we not?" He turned to Sansa who smiled and nodded, looking back to Joffrey. "A toast to King Joffrey!" Tyrion lifted his goblet, as did everyone else. All eyes were on Joffrey. He gave a sickened grin, lifted his cup then put it to his lips and drank. Immediately, he turned and retched onto the floor. Sansa erupted with a snort and hid her face in her hands. Tyrion sat back down, laughing. He looked at Sansa, really looked at her. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd seen her smile. Her life at King's Landing had been more of a slow and painful death.

Joffrey was led away and the party continued. Tyrion and Sansa were left alone to talk once again. "Lady Sansa, is there anything special you would like to do tomorrow? Your first day of freedom. Anything you wish, my Lady, and I will make it happen."

Sansa seemed to think about the question. After a few seconds, she said "I'd like to take a walk with you, my Lord, if you feel up to it."

"Is that all? Just a walk?" He didn't know what he was expecting, but her answer seemed so simple.

"I love to walk. It's one of my favorite things. Walking is good for the heart and the mind. And the flowers and wildlife here are extraordinary."

"A walk then," he smiled. "I look forward to it. Pray tell, what are some of your other favorite things?" He noticed the way she brightened when she spoke of pleasant things.

"Well, I love horse-back riding and archery. Playing with—" her words caught in her throat and she seemed to stop breathing as her eyes stopped their wandering. Tyrion watched her face pale and he followed her paralyzed gaze to the far side of the room where Joffrey was leading a row of men in a raucous procession. Each of them held something tall above their heads. Sounds of shocked reception guests greeted them as they paraded into the room.

"Don't let me faint," Sansa breathed. Tyrion barely heard it, her voice was laced with horror and sorrow. He couldn't yet recognize what the King and his men were carrying, but Sansa obviously knew exactly was it was. Then, all at once, he could see them. They were bobbing grotesquely as their bearers drunkenly lifted them up and waved them about.

Heads.

Joffrey carried her father's head, half rotted, to their table. Behind him, his men carried the head of Sansa's mentor and the head of her wolf. The others he didn't recognize.

"Your grace!" He stood and bellowed, "This is grotesque! This is her wedding day!"

Joffrey glared, swaying slightly. "She still has traitors' blood. Her traitorous family will—"

"ENOUGH! We have heard all of this already!" Tyrion snapped.

Sansa couldn't peel her eyes away from the decaying, gray face of her father.

In an instant, Lord Tywin was at the table. "Your Grace, you are sickening our guests and damaging frail relations. Put. Them. Back."

"I'm the King! You can't tell me what—" Joffrey whimpered.

"Now."

Joffrey scoffed, laying the Stark patriarch's head down before Sansa on the table. He turned his face to Tywin, squaring his body across from the much taller one. He opened his mouth to spit venom, but instead he lurched over to the side and vomited on one of his follower's boots.

As soon as the King and his revelers began to disperse, Tyrion was at his new wife's side, helping her to her feet. He half expected her to yank her rigid hand from his but, instead, she resolutely grasped it, letting him lead her up and away from the throngs of people. If anyone noticed their departure, they didn't speak up. Some women from the court bowed their heads as they passed. Tyrion thought he heard one of them remark, "Poor girl."

Tyrion led the way to their shared bed chamber. It was much larger than the one she had to herself. A few handmaidens waited inside the room. Tyrion had them leave and wait outside.

"Would you like some wine? Just a little? It will relax you," Tyrion suggested.

"Yes, please." She watched him numbly as he poured half a glass of wine. "I think I was almost happy," she sighed.

Tyrion gestured to a chair at a table. She sat and took her wine glass in her hands. She took a sip of the bittersweet liquid, enjoying the boldness of it.

"Sansa, you have got to be the strongest woman I know. You don't deserve this," he spoke flatly, his face showing concern but his hands worked at the seams of his doublet in mute anger.

Sansa watched him, feeling the sadness melt away. She took another sip of wine and she could swear she felt it warming her inside. "That wasn't my father." Tyrion poured himself a glass and sat back, watching this ice princess before him. "It was just a shell of him. My father will always stay with me. That wasn't my father." She picked her head up then and looked at her new husband. "How do you block it all out?"

Tyrion took a good long gulp of wine. "With wine, my wife."

"No," she rolled her eyes. "Really. How do you keep from going insane?"

Tyrion breathed in deeply. "I know I'm small, I know what everyone calls me. I know my limitations. I expect it. But I also know I'm better than that. I'm not just an imp. I can beat them at their game because I'm smarter than them. You, Sansa, are a lone wolf in a den of lions. But do not for a second believe you are all alone. I am your husband now. I will take care of you, I will protect you, I am always on your side." Their eyes were locked. She wanted to reach across the table and take his hands, just sit there with him. She wanted to.

"I meant what I said in the dressing room," she told him. "I think you are the biggest man in King's Landing. I will never do anything disloyal, anything to hurt or embarrass you." She wanted to get closer to him. Wanted to be comforted. "I want to get to know you. But right now, I'd really like to have a few quiet moments to myself." She wanted to let him make her happy, make her laugh.

But she couldn't. Not yet.


End file.
